


Diane Young

by SleepyLeaf



Series: This Was Never Gonna Have a Happy Ending [2]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Big Angst fic, Containes the Evelyn Parker Suicide Scene, Handcuffs, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Porn With Plot, Post Orgasm Torture, Streetkid V, Takemura is such a good guy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, V might have OCD, alchohol, second work in a series, smut in second chapter, this time there is some plot involved, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyLeaf/pseuds/SleepyLeaf
Summary: [Song by Vampire Weekend-- it's a pun on Dyin' Young]V's been hard at work trying to get to the bottom of his Johnny-Silverhand-problem. He hits a major hitch when Judy calls him and urgently tells him to come over. He's no stranger to death--after all, he came from the streets of Night City. But when he lands at the scene of a suicide, it really throws him off his rhythm. Too bad he's supposed to meet Takemura and help with his gnatshit-crazy plan.Takes place after Getting a Rise, but prior reading is not required!
Relationships: Goro Takemura/V
Series: This Was Never Gonna Have a Happy Ending [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153979
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic focuses V's angst dealing with the aftermath of the Evelyn Parker suicide scene, inspired by the hairpin-turn in the game when Takemura called me up immediately after I left the bloody mess in Judy's apartment. Talk about whiplash.
> 
> This follows the events in Getting a Rise, but prior reading is not necessary. 
> 
> No smut in this chapter, but LOTS of smut in the next. 
> 
> Part 2 of the This Was Never Gonna Have a Happy Ending series.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at DaddyTakemura dot tumblr dot com !!

The acrid smell of blood is overwhelming as soon as V steps into the apartment.

“In the bathroom,” Judy calls out to him. He might have guessed what he was going to find, but he could never truly be prepared for the scene that awaited him.

His heart stops in his chest when he sees her. Sees Evelyn. She’s limp and lifeless in the tub, blood still leaking from her wrists. In fact, V notes there might be more of her blood on the bathroom tile than there was left in the corpse. Pools had coagulated on the bathmat. Dark, red, and syrupy. He feels the bile rise in his throat before he swallows and steadies himself. Growing up in the streets, it wasn’t the first suicide he’d helped clean up, but he found that this was one of those things that never, ever got easier.

Of course, Johnny was already running his mouth. Something about sticking your neck out for someone and this is how they repay you. It was a bullshit-take in six different ways, and V can’t help but snap at him.

“Stop talking.”

For once in his fucking life, Johnny did as V asked. Must’ve been that he could feel how much V was _not_ fucking around right now.

Judy’s watery voice pulls V out of his shock. “I should’ve known somethin’ was off...”

He crouches down next to the tub, next to Judy and ~~the corpse~~ Evelyn. He says all the right things, soothing Judy who needs to navigate her grief more than anything else. He can do that. He’s had enough grief in his life that he knows the way.

“I don’t want any trouble. I’m gonna call the badges,” Judy says. She stands up to call the cops and asks V to move Evelyn’s body to the bedroom.

V doesn’t think he should move her. Wait, let him rephrase—he doesn’t think she should be moved, period. But Judy asked him, and he’s not about to fight with her. So for the second time, he scoops his arms around Evelyn’s limp form and tries to be gentle, even though he knows she won’t complain. By the time he arranges her on the bed, he can feel the wetness of her blood soaked through his shirt.

 _How awful_. It’s all he can think. _How truly awful._

He sat with Judy on her roof for a small while until she asked him to leave. He didn’t really want to go yet, but it wasn’t his call now was it?

If Johnny had anything to say about it, he didn’t. Small miracle.

He hangs onto Evelyn’s cigarette case, lights one on his way down the block to the bus stop. He takes the time to zip up his jacket to hide the worst of the bloodstains he’s now sporting. Doesn’t think he’ll need to change immediately; thinks he’ll go back to the Coyote first and tip a few back until he gets all this sadness out of his blood.

His plans change, however, when his phone rings. It’s Takemura. Against his better judgment, he answers.

“V, let us meet. I have formulated a plan. Find me in Kabuki as soon as you can. There is no time to waste.”

“Yeah, sure thing. I’ll see you there,” V hung up. He wasn’t really in the mood to get back to work, but he could acknowledge that a distraction might be just the thing he needed. He finished his cigarette and called for Jackie’s bike instead of taking the bus, hoping the drive would clear his mind.

By the time he arrives in Kabuki, he feels somewhat refreshed. Still, he decides to throw back a few mouthfuls from a pint of cheap whiskey he’d been saving. Wouldn’t want Takemura to pick up on his jitteriness. After all, he was a professional. Schooling his face and his emotions into neutrality, V sighs and shakes out his hands. _So let’s keep it professional_.

He finds Takemura gabbing it up with a couple local badges, which is just so _stupid_ that V cannot wrap his head around it. He knew the former Arasaka agent was intelligent, had the utmost respect for him as much as he could for any corpo-rat. _So why was he acting so fucking stupid?_

V clips up behind Takemura silently, grabbing his shoulder with more force than was probably needed. “You’ll have to excuse my friend, officers. He gets real chatty. ‘Scuse us,” V smiled before physically pulling Takemura away.

“V! You startled me,” Takemura scolded him. “I was just about to ask those officers if they had any useful information—”

“You _what?_ ” V snaps through gritted teeth. “Did you forget that you have a fucking _price on your head_? What part of _keep a low profile_ is difficult for you to understand??”

Takemura stops walking to observe V a little more closely, and V realizes that the bodyguard had not yet seen him get serious about very many things to date.

“Yes. Well, I suppose you have a point,” he concedes.

“No shit,” V muttered under his breath. “You forget that you’re not in your corpo bubble anymore, Goro. Ain’t nothing that’s gonna protect you out here. You got no status, no money, and no backup. You keep needlessly sticking your neck out like this and—”

V thinks about Evelyn’s bloody corpse. Thinks about Jackie. Thinks about what it was like to come home every day knowing his family could be gone. Thinks about the day it finally happened—about his hysterical mother and hiding razor blades and learning how to disarm a gun at ten. Thinks about how he’d just got done convincing Takemura to trust in him as a friend.

Remembers what happens to his friends.

“Just keep your head low and stay out of trouble, okay?” V finishes. He’s too wound up, but he presses on anyways. “What’ve you got for me, Takemura? Why’re we here?”

Takemura beckons for V to follow to a walking bridge as he waxes poetic about the dishonorable actions of Yorinobu Arasaka. V tries hard to look like he gives a shit.

“This is where Hanako-sama’s float will be during the parade,” Takemura gestures. “If only I could make it onto the float, I could try to persuade her of the truth.”

“Uh-huh. And how are you planning on doing that?” V asks.

“Why, jump of course!” Takemura says very matter-of-factly.

V blinks several times in stunned silence, looking back and forth between the place that Hanako’s float will be and the former Arasaka agent standing next to him.

“You are gnatshit crazy,” V concludes. “If you think you’re gonna make it onto that float without breaking _both_ your ankles, not to mention all the security—”

“Yes. I have a plan for that as well. While you were busy engaging in your criminal activities—” Takemura ignored the way V’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “I was researching details about the parade. It seems that all of the floats are kept in the same Arasaka industrial park. We should be able to hack into Hanako-sama’s float, which will reduce security and allow for my safe landing. As far as the rest is concerned, Okada-san mentioned that they would be using the CCTV cameras. I have an infected chip that should allow us the same access to the network. I will be an easy target, but _you_ ,” Takemura says pointedly, “you can take out the worst security threats under my direction.”

V sighs. “What kind of security are we looking at?”

Takemura crosses his arms. “Our primary concern will be snipers. Plus, there will be at least one netrunner, as Okada-san had mentioned. But first, a test. Let me see you put your skills to work and use this shard to gain access to the CCTV network. The servers are not far from here. Come.”

He follows Takemura a short way to a locked building, the CCTV servers inside. Takemura explains in greater detail how V will navigate the parade’s security forces with Takemura’s aid.

“See you got me doin’ all the dirty work,” V complains.

“Would you like to trade places?” Takemura asks incredulously. “Will you meet Hanako-sama in my stead? What will you say? _‘Hello. My name is V.’_ ” It’s a good point, but V’s tolerance for snark is significantly stunted at the moment.

“Yeah, fine, okay. You got the shard?” V asks. Takemura presents it to him, and V examines it closely. “Where’d you find this?”

“Across the canal,” Takemura answers.

“Hm. Might be decent tech, after all. And if it’s not, I got a few tricks up my sleeve as well.” V slides the shard into his cybernetic port and quickly glances through the information.

“This is good to know.” Takemura crosses his arms and eyes the CCTV server building. “Well? Get to it. Let’s see what you can do.”

V rolls his eyes but does ask the bodyguard asks. After a nonchalant pass by the door, he figures he _could_ brute-force his way in, but he doesn’t want to raise any suspicion. He opts for climbing up through a vent into the server room. _Security is atrocious,_ he thinks. It’s embarrassing for the corp, how unguarded the area is. He downloads the malware effortlessly into the camera system and leaves without raising any alarm.

“Well?” Takemura asks him upon his return.

“Two-bit thief, ain’t I?” V says. “Said so yourself.”

“Not without reason,” Takemura quips.

V bristles at the comment but says nothing. They stop at a food vendor for yakitori while Takemura details the rest of his plans for their infiltration during the parade. V makes pointed comments where he can, a bitterness in his voice that seems to push Takemura closer to irritation.

“This isn’t like, some elaborate seppuku ritual, is it?” V gripes.

“What do you mean?” the bodyguard asks.

“It’s just that, you seem pretty intent on getting us killed. Kind of would like to know why.”

“The risks _are_ substantial, but this is our best chance—”

“And what it Oda zeroes us on the spot?” V interrupts tersely.

Takemura considers this. “Oda would not dare to raise a hand against me.”

“And against _me?_ ” V asks, chomping off a piece of the yakitori.

“That would be a different matter. You would do best to keep your distance,” Takemura says honestly. He, too, bites into the yakitori, but makes a face before tossing it back onto the plate in disgust. “Sawdust and plastic, that,” he grouses.

V can handle a lot of bitching, but the way that Takemura discards perfectly edible food even in his destitute circumstances rubs him the wrong way.

“Must’ve been a long time since you were really hungry,” V says with ice in his voice.

“Excuse me?” Takemura asks, taken aback.

“Well,” V says, looking Takemura dead in the eye while he takes another bite to talk with his mouth full, “I know it’s probably not high-brow cooking, but it fills the stomach all right.” He takes yet another bite, sustaining eye contact. “All I’m sayin’ is, a little bit of that hunger-spice goes a long way.”

It’s Takemura’s turn to bristle, rolling his eyes. “Are you going to lecture me about how there are starving children in poor third-world countries...”

V barely finishes his own yakitori before reaching boldly into Takemura’s space and nabbing _his_ yakitori, waving it vaguely at Takemura before getting to work eating the other man’s meal as well.

“I’m saying there are starving children _right here in Night City_. Lots of unlucky fucks around here would be grateful for this _sawdust and plastic._ Seems awfully stupid to waste it,” V chides. He finishes the yakitori before tossing the empty skewer back onto Takemura’s plate. “Good thing you weren’t hungry, Takemura. I sure was.”

Takemura stands abruptly, seemingly eager to end this interaction. “I am going to head out. I will scout the Arasaka industrial park so you can sneak in. I will contact you with more information.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” V stands as well. “You’re a stranger in a strange land. I’m goin’ with you.”

The bodyguard exhales stiffly in annoyance, closes his eyes for a moment and considers the plan.

“You are right,” he concedes for the second time that day. “With your hands, mind, and skills of a thief...” Takemura has to pointedly ignore the laughably suggestive way V waggles his eyebrows, “You would be most helpful.”

“Damn straight,” V adds, puffing his chest out a little. “Let’s go.”

The drive to the Arasaka industrial park is tense. Every time Takemura tries to go over the plan again, V shoots him down with unparalleled snark and sass. It’s only in part that V is just plain having a bad day. The biochip is acting up, too.

Johnny appears occasionally, suggests that they go along with Takemura’s plan until he outlives his usefulness. V remembers the way the bodyguard had so effortlessly manhandled him in his apartment during their encounter only weeks prior. _Not a chance_ , V tells Johnny. _This guy could decomish us no problem._

 _Not ‘me’. ‘Us’._ The thought puts a sour taste in V’s mouth.

Johnny’s back-and-forth isn’t so bad, not lately. They’ve grown on each other—quite literally, in V’s brain. But still, when he spends too much time engaging the sorry rocker-boy, he gets a migraine the size of the Pacific Ocean.

If Takemura takes V’s silence for sulking, that’s fine with him. Takemura parks the van by a construction site and he follows the bodyguard up the elevator to the roof. Something about the movement of the elevator triggers V’s vertigo, and his vision begins to splice and glitch as the warning _RELIC MALFUNCTION_ flashes across his eyes. V tries to nonchalantly grip the guardrails in the elevator, leaning back heavily in an attempt to regain his balance. His stomach heaves, and his migraine flashes through his skull as if V had been struck by lightning.

Takemura leads him to their lookout point, gives V plain and simple instructions for how their stake-out will go. When V grips the railing of the lookout spot with white knuckles, Takemura’s eyes hover over the merc.

“V, are you feeling okay?” he asks bluntly. Then, a small smile creeps onto his face. “Do not tell me that yakitori is disagreeing with you now.”

V can feel the blood drain from his face, feeling woozy and nauseous all at once. “It’s not the damn yakitori, Goro.”

Takemura lets it lie and turns back to his surveillance. V tries to scan, but he can’t focus. He can’t work like this.

Pushing away from the lookout, V hobbles back into the building. “I’m gonna be sick. Don’t follow me,” he says sternly. He hears Takemura chuckle self-righteously to himself, but he’s in little position to do anything about it. His vision glitches again and he stumbles, collapsing onto the ground. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even be able to _find_ the ground. Better to let gravity do the work.

Finally, the attack subsides. V’s stomach lurches and heaves but he manages to keep his food down. Johnny appears above him, a shit-eating grin on his face. ‘ _Looks like you shouldn’t have lectured the corpo-rat, after all.’_

 _‘Fuck off, Johnny,’_ V spits venomously. ‘ _This ain’t bad street food—it’s you, you fuckin’ tumor_.’

 _‘It’s the biochip,’_ Johnny corrects. _‘You sure you’re gonna be up for this mission?’_

_‘Gonna have to be.’_

V regains control over his faculties, rolls onto his back and pants for air. He sits up and takes a few more swigs of his pint—just to steady his nerves, of course.

V returns to Takemura, who gives him a cautious once-over before asking, “Feeling better, thief?”

“Just peachy,” V answers. “It’s the biochip. ‘m getting worse.”

Takemura hums in thought. “You do not look so bad.”

“Yeah _, I know_. I look fucking amazing. Now let’s get to work,” V snaps. It is only about an hour before V feels like he’s got everything he needs, but Takemura insists that the stay and observe for a while longer out of caution. V agrees, but only on the condition that they order for pizza and lo mein.

It’s hours later by the time they fall into more casual conversation. At this point they’re just waiting for sunset so they can begin. Takemura regales him with stories of his grandmother, about the legend of the _bakeneko_ , and the life of growing up in Chiba-11.

“When the soldiers chose me for service, I felt as if I had won the lottery,” Takemura finishes, his eyes glossy with reminiscence.

“You come from a hard place, too, and yet you still have the stones to shit on the local cuisine,” V says. “Hard to believe that kind of hypocrisy. That’s some next level shit, right there.”

Takemura frowns deeply. “I have worked extremely hard for the life I have built. I have earned the right to be choosy.”

“Nonsense,” V waves him off. “You really think that hard work entitles you to nice things? You wanna try tellin’ that to that food vendor you insulted earlier today? Go ahead, I’ll watch, while you explain to a choom who likely busts his ass for twelve hours a day, seven days a week, how if he would only _work harder_ , his life would improve.”

Takemura grows visibly uncomfortable. _‘Like all corpos do, whenever you challenge their worldview,’_ Johnny adds.

“You want to feel like you deserve a better life, just ‘cause you got one. You weren’t just a hard-worker, Takemura. You were _lucky_. Like you said, you won the lottery,” V went on. “Then again, I’m not so sure you really are as high and mighty as you think you are—after all, you’re a wanted man hanging out with a two-bit thief. Not exactly the corpo dream.”

One look at Takemura tells V that he is positively seething. V cracks a smile and takes another swig from his pint before tucking it back into his coat.

Seeing an opportunity to change the subject, Takemura makes his move. “Drinking before a job, V?” He sneers. “I would _never_ touch alcohol at work.”

“Good, ‘cause I wasn’t offering,” V shoots back.

Takemura is silent again for some time, his critical gaze watching V for far too long.

“Got somethin’ to say, just say it,” V tells him.

“I know what you are doing, V. But I do not know why,” Takemura says.

“And what _exactly_ am I doing, Goro?” V asks.

“You are being... difficult. Picking fights.” Takemura pauses to choose his next words carefully. “I hope that this is not born of feelings resulting from that night we shared in your apartment, V.”

V blinks in surprise a few times, trying to connect the dots to see what Takemura was suggesting. Suddenly, the light bulb goes on, and V breaks into bright laughter.

“You think I’m mad that you didn’t call me after we fucked, Takemura?” he asks sardonically. “No, no. You got it all wrong. I’m not some lovesick schoolgirl or anything. Jesus, Goro, I’m a professional!”

“Good,” Takemura sighs. “People like us do not have room for sentimentality in our lives.”

Now _that_ irks V to no end. “Oh, go fuck yourself, you gonk,” he says almost too easily. “’Course we got room for sentimentality. That’s just human nature.” He thinks back to that morning’s events at Judy’s apartments. Can’t get the smell of blood out of his nose at the memory.

“This is exactly what I am talking about,” Takemura says sternly. “You are determined to argue over every little thing. Are you sure I can even rely on you for the task at hand?” he gestures to the industrial park across the street. “You are angry, and you are drunk. This is a bad idea.”

“I’m not _drunk_ , Takemura,” V says. Johnny chooses that moment to appear behind the bodyguard and gestures a measurement with his thumb and finger, squinting over Takemura’s shoulder. _‘Maybe a little, choom.’_

_‘Don’t help him, you asshole,’_

“It is dark enough now. If you are sure you are able, I will set to work on the communications to cause a distraction,” Takemura leads them to the elevator again, and V braces for the vertigo that blissfully does not come.

“Hang on a sec,” V calls to Takemura once he’s in his van. “Let me dump some layers. No way I’ll be able to climb through that minefield with my range of motion restricted.”

V opens the passenger door as Takemura settles into the driver’s seat, re-arranging how his guns fit into their varying holsters throughout his body. He unzips his jacket, tosses it in the footwell and sets to tightening his shoelaces when Takemura exclaims—

“ _なんてこった_ _[what the fuck],_ V!”

“Huh?” V looks up at Takemura’s look of horror.

“Your shirt!”

V glances down at his tank top, which at one point was white and gray, but is now stained a rusty brown from dried blood. V startles nearly as bad as Takemura does when he sees it, eyes wide and breath shaking. He had managed to forget it while he focused on the mission in front of him. Spent the whole day trying to forget.

 _Evelyn’s blood_.

V swallows and forces a smile, trying to wave it off. “Forget it, Takemura. It’s not mine.”

Takemura levels a hard glare at V, unmoving. The tension makes the hair on V’s neck stand on edge.

“I am cancelling the mission,” Takemura says with finality.

“What?” V gapes. “What about the float? You need this to work!”

“Yes, exactly. I can’t have you going in there and _物事をクソ_ _[fucking things up]_.”

V stared at Takemura in disbelief. “But we just did all that work! _Hours_ , Takemura! What, do you think I’m made of time? I’m fuckin’ dyin’ for Christ’s sake!”

“Whatever it is you are made of, you are a mess!” Takemura scolds him. “This,” he gestures at V, “is not _‘A-game’_ behavior. Get in, V. I am taking you home.”

When V doesn’t move and stares uselessly at his jacket in the footwell, Takemura adds more gently this time, “We can try again soon. But a warrior knows when it is time to rest. Now is time to rest, V.”

Johnny makes an appearance in the back of the van, leaning between the seats and beckoning V. _‘C’mon, choom. As much as I hate to admit it, the corpo is right. Get your ass in the car.’_

V bites his lip out of quiet fury and crawls into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him.

 _‘There, there, V. We can drink tonight until you can’t walk. Give it another shot tomorrow.’_ Johnny soothes.

When V has no biting reply for either Johnny or Takemura, he admits to himself that this is probably the best bet, anyways. What would he have done if he’d gotten spotted in the complex? He’s _not_ at the top of his game... and taking on Arasaka soldiers is nothing to half-ass.

“Fine,” V huffs, even though Takemura is already driving. “Fine!” He repeats loudly. “But I’m getting shit-fucking-wasted as soon as we get back!”

Takemura shoots him a look and shakes his head. “You are young, and still full of energy. It can be a good thing, but it can be just as self-destructive. It would benefit you to learn _control_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Control this, Takemura,” V suggests, flipping him off.

V is surprised when Takemura laughs in response.

“You remind me a bit of myself before I was recruited into the army,” Takemura says warmly.

 _‘Now that is something hard to imagine,’_ Johnny says. V can’t agree enough.

“I’m sure you were a real wild child,” V says sarcastically.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Takemura says with a fond look on his face. “One time, some of the other boys and I snuck into the pantry at our training base and found ourselves some cooking wine. Oh, yes,” Takemura trails off. “We were all beaten so severely afterwards we could not shoot straight for days.”

“Kinda fucked up,” V mutters. Takemura hums in placid agreement.

After a pause, V gets a niggling idea in the back of his mind. Johnny spots it a mile away and rolls his eyes. _‘Oh hell no,’_ he gripes from the back of the van. _‘Ain’t no way I’m stickin’ around for this.’_

 _‘Then don’t,’_ V tells him. With a blip, Johnny’s gone, and V takes his shot.

“You’re not still sleeping in the back of your van, are you Goro?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V needs to let off some steam. Takemura helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no fucking idea if this is any good. I've worked on it for ages now. It's feels like it's been overworked. Is it too long? Can porn be too long? I have no idea what I'm looking at anymore. I can't read. 
> 
> Anyways, this part is sex. Enjoy!

_“You’re not still sleeping in the back of your van, are you Goro?”_

V wouldn’t ever claim to have the healthiest coping mechanisms, but he figures he’s earned this one. The past few weeks had been stressful as fuck, and today was just the cherry on top of it all. V feels restless, like he wants to break something. Or maybe, that he wants to get broken.

Takemura narrows his eyes at V, but his lips play at a knowing smile. “Thank you for you concern, V, but no. I have secured lodging at a motel for the time being.”

“Preem. You should show me your digs. Let me see how the other half lives,” V says as if Takemura had just told him he was staying at some high-rise penthouse.

Takemura shuts him down at light speed. He knows what V is up to, and he knows that it’s a bad idea. Sleeping with someone once was a mistake, but twice? Purely unprofessional. “Perhaps some other time. For now, I will take you to your home.”

V can’t help the pout that comes over him. He’s nothing if not persistent, however. “Well then,” he tries again, “maybe you could join me for a drink instead? I mean, technically you’re not working anymore since you called the job off, right?”

Takemura shakes his head again. “You are playing with fire, V,” he chides.

“And you’re doing—what exactly?” V challenges.

“Not this. Not now. You are not in a good place.”

“Yikes,” V says, pride wounded. “I’m a consenting adult, ain’t I?”

“You would benefit from some rest,” Takemura tells him more sternly. “Besides, I would not say it is in my style to get, as you suggested, ‘shit-fucking-wasted’.”

V groans petulantly. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re afraid I’d drink you under the table.”

“You are trying to goad me,” Takemura observes.

“Is it working?” V asks, a cheeky grin already on his face.

Instead of answering his question, Takemura simply states “You lack control over your impulses.”

V hums in agreement. “Seems like my control _is_ in short supply. Maybe I could borrow some of yours?”

Takemura stops at a red light too abruptly, sending V into his seatbelt and back again with some substantial force.

“You need to find healthy coping mechanisms, V. Not—whatever this is!” Takemura gestures wildly in V’s direction.

 _Oh yeah, that’s the stuff_ , V thinks with a smirk.

“Come on, choom,” V drawls. “Won’t you help a guy who’s hard up? You _did_ say you had some ideas for next time. Been a while since my cuffs got any use, ya know.”

V doesn’t miss the way Takemura’s breath changes, stutters into something intentionally measured and smooth. When he doesn’t respond, V keeps talking. “I’ve even come up with the perfect safeword.”

Still, no response. “You wanna hear it, Takemura?”

Silence.

“ _Kintsugi_ ,” V beams despite Takemura’s cold shoulder. “Ya know, like how they repair ceramic pots with the gold? Good stuff, right?”

“I know what _kintsugi_ is, V,” Takemura says flatly. “It is... fitting.”

 _Got ‘im_ , V thinks to himself.

V glows under the modest praise but tries not to let it show. Wouldn’t want Takemura get a big head and all. Instead, he reaches to retrieve his jacket from the footwell and finds his pint of whiskey, taking a joyous swig in silent victory.

“So, what does the mysterious Takemura like to drink? Something tells me cheap Irish whiskey ain’t it,” V says, insinuating Takemura’s consent to drinks in the first place.

“It is not,” Takemura confirms. A long pause. “We will pick something up in your building.”

V could jump for joy, but he doesn’t, because he’s not some desperate gonk who needs attention to deal with his problems. Doesn’t sound like him _at all_.

Takemura parks his van in the building’s garage and the two hit the liquor store after V smartly covers his blood-stained shirt with his jacket again. The bodyguard picks up a mid-grade _shochu_ while V grabs a six-pack. V’s blood thrums in his ears in anticipation, just two chooms buying drinks like they’re not about to go get busy upstairs. As soon as they arrive in V’s apartment, V goes straight to the cupboard and fishes out a glass for Takemura—“In case you weren’t planning on drinking straight from the bottle,” he says with a smile.

Takemura sighs in resignation and takes the glass from V. V’s already moved on to using his lighter to pop the cap off his beer and tips the bottle back eagerly. Takemura eyes him quite seriously, unimpressed.

“If you keep that up, V, you will be passed out before you get up to any of your bad behavior,” Takemura tells him pointedly.

V shrugs but sets the beer down anyways. He begins to undress, removing his shoes and his jacket. He peels the bloodied tank top off of himself, tossing it on the floor and tries to hide a shudder when he catches dried spots of blood clinging to his torso. Takemura doesn’t miss the haunted look that flashes over V’s face, or the way his hands clench and release nervously.

“I gotta shower,” V says quite suddenly, his grim and hollow eyes meeting Takemura’s for a split second. “Make yourself comfortable.”

If Takemura has any reaction to V’s unstable mood swings, V doesn’t catch it. He’s already hidden away in his bathroom under the warm spray of water. V cleans himself meticulously, maybe even too much so. He scrubs his skin idly until it glows red, turns the water as hot as it will go, and finds himself staring emptily at the water that circles the drain until he loses track of time.

As V emerges from the bathroom, it's been so long that he’s almost forgotten that Takemura was there. Luckily, Takemura is not a man who requires supervision. V observes the bodyguard from behind. He’s pulled a chair closely to the window as he nurses his shochu. Jazz plays for the first time on V’s radio. Somehow, even in V’s dump of an apartment, Takemura manages to embody a sense of class and dignity that V doubts he will ever match.

Even so, Takemura does not look relaxed. His leg is crossed over his knee, but his back is straight with unusually tense posture. V wonders if he is reconsidering, wonders if Takemura will change his mind and leave, after all. He thinks of his empty apartment and how the silence will creep up on him even if he blares the noisiest programs he can find. He thinks of the corpse he moved this morning, of Jackie’s dead eyes, and how he and Johnny are going to be just like them if he doesn’t figure out something soon.

He doesn’t want to think down that road anymore. _Can’t_ think like that, not if he wants to maintain some semblance of sanity. Instead, he returns to his beer. He wouldn’t say he’s above sneaking shots of whiskey in between lagers, either.

Takemura no doubt has heard him return from his shower, but he doesn’t make any move to acknowledge V. It forces V to come to _him_ , and he does.

“Is your fancy drink as good as you wanted it to be, Goro?” V asks casually. Despite his effort, nothing in his stance is casual, tense in ten different ways even after he hastily pulled on clean pants and a black t-shirt.

“It is fine,” Takemura says thoughtfully, turning his full attention to V and taking in the younger man as though he is solving some complex equation. “You take very long showers,” Takemura tells him.

V smiles, but he doesn’t know what to say to that. Suddenly he feels like he’s losing his nerve. He isn’t usually uncomfortable in his own skin. It’s a new sensation for him. He wonders if it isn’t the biochip’s work.

“You are distracted,” Takemura says. “Seems you cannot even focus after you have demanded my time this evening.”

“Yeah,” V admits with a sigh. He closes the space between himself and Takemura, carefully slips Takemura’s glass from his hand and drains its contents. Takemura’s eyes crinkle in amusement at V’s face upon drinking, squinching up while he tastes the foreign liquor on his tongue. “Tastes like vodka,” V says plainly, setting the glass down on the windowsill. “Disgusting.”

“You have no taste,” the bodyguard returns. “Your whiskey is like gasoline.” In a move that surprises V, Takemura holds his hand up to the merc and gestures him closer. V goes to him easily, bends over to settle his jaw into Takemura’s soft grip, placing his hands on either side of the chair to steady himself.

Takemura regards him with a wolfish stare. V feels his gut tighten in response. He only wants Takemura’s hands on him, telling him what to do and how to do it. He doesn’t want to think about anything. Takemura sees this in the younger merc. He’s seen it before in himself long ago in his youth during the corpo wars. A man overwhelmed and without direction. A man with fewer and fewer options.

Still, he is old enough to know better, even if V is not.

“We don’t have to do this,” Takemura says evenly. “I will not judge you if you simply wanted to talk, instead.”

“What?” V recoils out of Takemura’s hand, crossing his arms defensively and leaning against the windowsill. “I thought we had an understanding,” he says, wounded.

“There is no shame for indulging in the company of a friend during hard times,” Takemura goes on. He lowers his hand as if nothing had happened and pretends he doesn’t miss the way V so willingly goes to him. “I can only guess as to your situation, but it does not appear you have many people in your life right now who can listen—as a friend.”

V throws up his hands and rolls his eyes. “Didn’t ask you up here for a therapy session, Goro!” Still, the words follow anyways. “I just need a distraction. I just need—I— _fuck—”_ V braces his forehead into his hand. “I just need to let off some steam, okay? If you don’t wanna fuck around, that’s fine. I got other avenues.”

Takemura holds V’s eyes steadily as he thinks it over.

“Well? The door’s right there,” V says bitterly before turning his back on Takemura, arms crossed and leaning on the window.

V hears Takemura stand from the chair, and then nothing. He forces himself to focus on the skyline. He won’t beg anyone to stay. Not his style. You wanna leave? Get the fuck out. This situation’s no different.

Except that V can barely hide the flood of relief he feels when Takemura’s hands find their way onto his hips from behind. _Doesn’t make a goddamn sound when he doesn’t want to_ , V thinks.

“Don’t _need_ you,” V says coldly, even as his body threatens to melt against Takemura’s bulky frame. A shudder works its way down his spine as he feels the bodyguard’s fingers tighten around his hips and the unmistakable warms of Takemura’s breath skirts around his ear.

“No, of course not,” the older man says lowly, voice heavy with sarcasm. “You could always find some dirty prostitute to satisfy you, risking your health and your wallet at once. Or perhaps you will go to the nearest bar and pick a fistfight with the first person you see? Or, maybe you have some _other_ Arasaka agent who you have been working with behind my back.”

V’s hands grip at the windowsill and he pushes back into Takemura’s grip. “Caught me, you bastard,” V says with a smirk.

“But you are happy to have me anyways,” Takemura’s lips touch against V’s neck, eliciting another shudder.

“Well, you’re already here. Might as well,” V huffs out. He tries to spin to face the bodyguard but Takemura’s hands tighten further on his waist, not giving V an inch to pivot. V leans his head back and takes in Takemura’s scent of warm spice and vanilla. He loves the feeling of Takemura pressed flushed against him, even through their clothes, and the bodyguard traces his lips along the side of V’s neck up to his ear.

“There are instructions this time. Red, yellow, green,” Takemura says with a newfound weight in his voice. “I will ask you your color, and you will tell me if it is too much.”

V’s pupils go wide and his breath, thick with the scent of alcohol, comes out like a shaky sob. “Yes, _sir_.”

“Will you behave for me tonight, I wonder?” Takemura’s lips ghost over the shell of V’s ear.

“Gonna hafta see,” V purrs. Takemura brings a hand back to V’s face and strokes V’s cheek with his thumb. V’s eyes flutter shut. All at once, V is unable to hide a single thing in his intoxicated state and his pure exhaustion. What surprises V more than this feeling of absolute openness is the feeling of safety that accompanies it. Something about the idea of Takemura seeing every thought play out on his face is _supremely_ arousing. Besides, he knows the bodyguard will keep his secrets.

“On the bed now,” Takemura instructs V with a quick push. “You have made me wait long enough.”

V fumbles onto the bed and settles onto his back, his wide smile back in place. “C’mon, Goro, I think we both know you haven’t got anywhere else to be.”

“Is that so?” Takemura croons as he helps himself to the drawer beneath V’s bed. “I was not aware you were familiar with the intricacies of my schedule.”

V props himself up on his elbows as he waits impatiently for Takemura to retrieve the desired goodies. The warmth from the alcohol and the heat from his shower make his skin quick to flush. Even though they’re just barely getting started, V can feel his cock react with interest in his jeans.

“Sit up, V,” Takemura instructs again. “Arms behind your back.”

“Oh _hell yes_ ,” V says excitedly. He moves to take off his shirt before following orders, but Takemura’s hands stop him.

“No, V. As you are. Arms behind your back.”

V feels himself melting under the command and does as he is asked.

Takemura hums as he fastens the cuffs around V’s wrists. “You must be exhausted,” he mutters. He never imagined that V would be so compliant. “Color?” he asks.

“ _Green_ , Goro. Just get to it,” V says smoothly.

“Mhmm. And your safe word?” Takemura takes V’s jaw in hand again and angles him up to make intense eye contact.

“Kintsugi,” V breathes.

“Very good,” Takemura says, giving V an amicable pat on the cheek. “Lean back now,” Takemura orders, moving his hands down to V’s waistline. Deft fingers release the fly there and Takemura gives the jeans a yank. “Hips up.”

V can feel the heat rising to his face, his chest rising and falling faster now as his heart rate climbs. He maneuvers his hips so that Takemura can pull down his jeans and boxers in one motion, feels the coolness of the air on his half-hard dick as he is freed from his clothes. V shudders at the feeling. He tests against the cuffs and wiggles his hips, testing his range of motion. Takemura keeps V’s jeans settled just above the knees, leaving V’s options quite limited for movement. His dick hardens further at the realization.

Takemura gives V a reserved smile before he himself discards his jacket and shoes, placing them both neatly on the chair he had moved earlier. V watches as Takemura rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons the topmost buttons on his shirt. V isn’t sure if Takemura knows what a show he is currently putting on, but V’s attention hangs onto every movement.

Takemura is a dream to watch. Each movement is careful and calculated, his eyes betray so little of what he is thinking. He has a grace to him that betrays just enough. Yet, Takemura’s small smile suggests there is plenty working beneath the surface. He is a mystery, or perhaps a mad man. And at the same time, the cat who caught the canary. Luckily, V loves to be caged in.

_Tweet, tweet, motherfucker._

Takemura returns a short time later and takes a seat on the bed. He regards V carefully as he lays before him and begins to touch the merc through his black t-shirt. His hand glides gently up to his collarbone, to the side of his neck, back down over one nipple, and sideways to the other where his thumb traces small circles. V’s eyes shut again as his lips part, breath coming faster now. Takemura makes no move to speed up. Instead, he traces the lines of V’s musculature and spreads his palm wide over the center of V’s chest, feeling him breathe.

“You can do that more, Takemura,” V nearly whispers. His hands are trapped beneath him, but Takemura can see the way his shoulders flex under his touch.

“I know that,” the bodyguard responds. Still, his hand moves at a maddening pace until V’s muscles are twitching under him and his nipples are sensitive nubs beneath the fabric. “I think I remember you saying that I have no better place to be, so there is no hurry.”

V tries and fails to swallow a small whine. He licks his lips and arches into Takemura’s touch where he can. Exposed below the waist, V’s dick bobs in appreciation.

Once V’s breathing begins labor, Takemura reaches his hand down to V’s exposed hip, rubbing circles over it before sliding his palm over V’s stomach and back up, this time beneath the shirt, pushing the fabric up to V’s chest. Takemura returns to his path, skin on skin, brushing over V’s nipples and down his ticklish sides. He is getting to know V this time around. He wants to see what makes V tick. To see what, exactly, makes him fall apart.

“You know,” Takemura began. “The art of kintsugi pottery enshrines the philosophy of honoring the broken pieces of a decorative object. Broken pieces are an important part of its history. A vase will break, and a skilled artisan will use lacquer and gold powder to fuse it back into its original shape.” Takemura slides his hand downwards again, this time just gracing V’s hip flexors and hovering over where V needs it most. “The result is a beautiful piece of art, broken and rebuilt into something more valuable than before.”

V gasps when Takemura’s hand engulfs him, lazily stroking V’s hardness and using his thumb to smear the droplets of precome around the spongy head.

“I will break you, V,” Takemura promises in a low voice. “But I will _also_ put you back together.” V gasps again when a liberal about of lube is poured onto him, quite chilly in comparison to Takemura’s warm hand.

“Don’t get all philosophical on me, Goro,” V groans. “Hard to listen to when you’re- _ah!_ -touching me like that.”

“You lack control in the worst ways, V,” Takemura laments. Again, he is no hurry, so he takes his time working V’s cock in his hand until V is squirming. The little noises that V makes at first grow into vulgar moans. Just as V’s hips begin to thrust upwards into Takemura’s grip, he moves away and goes back to running his hand over V’s chest like he’d never left.

He continues the simple operation another time, and another. At last, after a particularly tender swipe of his thumb over V’s tip, V gasps out an insult or two.

“Fuck, Goro, you fucking asshole!” he bites out as his hips stutter uselessly, chasing after Takemura’s hand that has already retreated. “You gonna do anything with me tonight or are you just gonna edge me until I explode?”

Takemura’s hand is swift as it cracks across V’s face, leaving him stunned into silence as the pain-and-pleasure sting goes directly to V’s cock.

“And here I thought you would be good for me,” Takemura chastises him. “You fail to exercise even the most basic practices of control.”

V’s pupils are blown wide as he looks up at Takemura. Any clever retort that he could’ve made died on his tongue as the bodyguard’s deft hands finish unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. V’s eyes soak up the image before him—the cybernetic implants that join taught skin and abs that could make even the most experienced deviant blush.

V barely notices the way that his hips are moving, searching upwards into empty space as the heat coils tighter and tighter in his gut. “You look _good_ , Goro,” V breathes out. “God you look so good.” V’s eyes snap back up to Takemura’s icy gaze. He sees the way Takemura’s eyebrows rise, both daring V to continue and also threatening punishment if he does. “Want my mouth on you, Goro. Fuck, I barely got to get a good look at your cock last time. Let me up. Let me touch you,” V’s altogether squirming now under Takemura’s patient stare.

“Don’t let me stop you, thief,” Goro says with a dangerous smile. Takemura stands and his warm hands slide down V’s thighs. With a little bit of work, Takemura rids V of his pants entirely. V doesn’t get much time to enjoy his newfound freedom, however, as Takemura grabs the merc’s legs and _yanks_ him to the edge of the bed. Takemura’s hand finds V’s shirt and pulls the merc to a sitting position. V yelps in surprise as his hands flex uselessly behind his back and he is met with another crisp smack across the face. This time, V nearly sees stars.

“ _Ow!_ _Fuck_! What was that even for?!” V exclaims. The words barely leave his mouth before Takemura’s hand cracks loud across the other cheek. V groans and his head lolls in disorientation.

Quickly, V feels Takemura’s strong grip beneath his jaw, steadying V’s gaze so he can look Takemura in the eyes. V leans into the hand like an anchor as he pants for breath.

“Tell me your color, V,” Takemura demands.

“My what?” V asks and the grip under his chin tightens.

“Your _color_. Red, yellow, green. These were your instructions.”

V blinks as he remembers. He tries hard to think while something creaks in the back of his mind against _ever giving in_. “I—um—” V takes in a shaky breath. “Green. I’m green, Goro.”

The hard grip on his jaw softens as Takemura’s hand slides softly over V’s burning cheek. V melts against the touch, the hot-and-cold of hard strikes and tender touches sending him reeling.

“I think it is time to see if that mouth of yours can do anything other than backtalk,” Takemura’s voice is husky as his hands find his own waistline.

“Fuck, yes,” V breathes. “I’ll be good. I’ll be so fuckin’ good.”

“On your knees, then. Face me,” Takemura instructs as he removes his pants and sits on the edge of the bed, knees spread just enough for V to nestle himself between them. V does so, eagerly. He shuffles on his bare knees until he can rest his head on Takemura’s thigh. V takes a moment just to drink in the sight of him, the scent of him. He looks up to Takemura’s domineering expression and smiles in earnest.

V watches the bodyguard take a slow breath, as if steeling his resolve, before Takemura places a hand gently on the crown of V’s head. Carefully, he guides V to the head of his dick, fingers digging into V’s hair just enough to direct but not enough to hurt. Not yet, anyway.

V opens his mouth hungrily around Takemura and gets to work. He steers well under the cues Takemura gives him with his hand—slower than V wants to go and deeper with every pass up and down the bodyguard’s rigid member.

It has been a _very long time_ , Takemura remembers suddenly. Something about the way his chest tightens and the way his breathing gets louder makes him worry for a moment that he might not last long at all—but then he remembers who is in control. Takemura has always been quiet in bed, preferring to hear every sound he can elicit from his partner. Tonight is no different. He guides V to proceed even slower as his fingers grip firmly in the merc’s hair. With Takemura’s hand secured in his hair and his wrists tugging uselessly against the cuffs behind his back, V cannot pull off of the beautiful cock in front of him. But every time he tries to suck Takemura down deeper, the hand stops him, too.

Caught in the suggestion of one or the other, V traces his tongue over the same few inches that Takemura allows him. Already he is getting squirmy under Takemura’s hold, hips shifting this way and that as his own cock leaks onto the floor. Finally, Takemura’s hand presses him forward and V moans around Takemura as he prepares to deepthroat him.

Takemura expects V to choke, and he does at first, but Takemura is wholly unprepared for the way that V swallows him down soon after. The bodyguard can’t tear his eyes away from V, whose lips are stretched around him and whose eyes are beginning to water as they look up at him, pleading for something.

Takemura curses, realizes his breath is coming fast and short, feels his hips twitch into V’s wet heat. He nearly lets loose right then and there, except he can see the discomfort on V’s face all of the sudden. Begrudgingly, Takemura draws himself from V’s throat and pulls the merc off him completely. V releases Takemura with a gasp, his lips bright and spit-slick.

“This is a good look on you,” Takemura tells him. V whines, high and needy. “Will you swallow?” he asks. He hopes he asks. He hopes it did not sound like a command.

Any concern evaporates as V nods enthusiastically, nearly pulling out of Takemura’s grip to wrap red lips around his dick once more. V bobs his head with vigor, nearly matching the way his own hips twitch upwards into empty space. V makes the most _obscene_ noises on his cock that Takemura has ever heard, seemingly begging for his own release while he works Takemura steadily towards the edge.

Takemura sighs and moans quietly in tandem with V. His fingers find V’s hair again and pull while his hips push forward, forward, forward—

Takemura comes in V’s mouth with a shaky gasp, listening to V’s insidious moans as the merc swallows what he can from the load. V doesn’t quit either, doesn’t stop licking and cleaning Takemura from where V couldn’t contain the full contents of his orgasm. V mouths teasingly at Takemura’s sensitive cock until the bodyguard forcefully pulls him away, a small laugh falling from his lips.

“Never thought you’d like that so much,” Takemura nearly purrs. He lets go of V’s hair in favor of gently cupping his chin, catching some spilled come on the corner of V’s lips with his thumb. V’s gaze sears up at Takemura, eyes bright as he chases Takemura’s thumb, suckling gently and wrapping his tongue around the digit.

“Please, Goro,” V whispers when he’s done with the task. “Please, I’ve been so good. I _need_ it,” he wiggles his hips to emphasize his point.

“You cannot even sit still, can you, Thief?” Takemura smiles down at him. “You must be aching by now.” V answers by burying his face into Takemura’s thigh and making such a frustrated, desperate whine that it almost makes Takemura hard again.

“ _Goro_ ,” V says with more muster this time. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, swear to God,” he pants. His shoulders are starting to pinch and his wrists have definitely bruised from the way he’s been pulling at the handcuffs. Even still, he pulls harder at them. He needs something, anything, to anchor him in his overwhelming need. Takemura must see the way his shoulders flex beneath his t-shirt because he drags a soothing hand across them in answer.

“Okay, V. Let me help you onto the bed. You’ve done very well.”

Takemura hooks his arms under V’s underarms and effortlessly heaves him to his feet. The bodyguard’s hands slide down V’s back to steady him when the younger wobbles on his feet. As if magnetized, V leans into Takemura. He drops his forehead onto Takemura’s bare shoulder, chasing contact and warmth and safety while V’s whole world rages like a ship at sea. Takemura offers small words of praise, both in Japanese and English, as he pulls V back onto the bed. He runs his calloused hands over V’s cramped shoulder muscles, up and down his tense neck and down the sides of his strained arms, resting his hands over V’s bruised wrists as he maneuvers behind him. Takemura coaxes V into a kneeling position and Takemura sidles closely behind him, pulling the merc to rest against his chest.

“How are your wrists, V?” Takemura asks, lips ghosting the shell of V’s ear.

V’s head lolls again, this time backwards onto Takemura’s shoulder. He turns his face into the bodyguard’s neck, pressing against the warm thrum of Takemura’s implants there.

“Need t’ come, Goro,” V mumbles almost incoherently. The edge of desperation in his voice sends Takemura deeper into the intoxication of _control_. His breath stutters, but he has to ask again.

“How are your wrists?”

V shifts against him. “Fine. Doesn’t matter. Just keep going.”

Takemura hums and draws one hand over V’s chest and presses him closer.

“Okay... Okay, V.” Takemura’s hand keeps V from squirming anymore, but the merc’s hips are still trying. “Here are the rules.” Takemura gives no pretext for when his hand grips just right onto V’s red and leaking cock. “I will make you come. And then, you receive your punishment.” He slides his thumb over the slick tip of V’s member. “Do you understand?”

V nods.

“Any complaints? Concerns?”

V shakes his head no.

“What is your color?”

“ _For fuck’s sake, Goro!”_ V gasps.

“V...” Takemura’s voice is low with warning.

“Green! It’s fucking green! Goro, I’m gonna explode here! God, I can’t—it’s been forever! Fuck! Don’t be such a fucking _tease_ , you Arasaka piece of shit!” V’s back to squirming as best he can under Takemura’s firm hand, but the bodyguard can tell his heart’s not in it. His coordination is terrible, no doubt utterly incapacitated by the raging erection that threatens to ache more with every passing moment.

Takemura gets to work. With one hand pinning V back to his chest, his other hand glides from root to tip, swiveling over V’s head with each pass. As soon as V’s hips cant into his hand Takemura dips lower, giving his balls a light squeeze and a pull. Then it’s right back to it—his fist jacking V at a punishing pace. V’s thighs flex and his back arches, but Takemura’s got him restrained enough that he can’t go _anywhere_. V pulls at the cuffs, presses his mouth hotly against Takemura’s jawline, strains his hips as Takemura’s pace speeds up and slows down and speeds up again.

The vulgar gasps and groans falling from V’s lips serve only to stir up Takemura’s passion more. The heat between them is like the sun, and V is merciless in the bodyguard’s arms.

“Fuck!! Goro, shit—Let me—Let me come! Let me come I need to come I need it fuck baby I need it so bad—” the words fall from V’s mouth until he doesn’t have control of them anymore, until he can barely _make_ words. Takemura strokes him firmly and pushes him to the edge, V screaming as his body bows against the bodyguard.

V’s whole body lights up like an electrical fire as he comes. And comes. And comes.

Takemura’s grip doubles on V, holding his chest so tightly that he can’t squirm away—and squirm he certainly _does_. V can’t even control it anymore, his body’s moving on its own, and Takemura keeps stroking him in that relentless pace. V’s not sure if he’s making any noise anymore, every muscle drawn tight and his balls tightening and twitching with a deep and satisfying ache that’s far too good.

V cycles through whining and moaning and deeply agonized groans as the overstimulation washes over him in wave after wave. He feels wetness from his eyes, a dryness in his throat, and a razor-sharp need for _more_ and _less_ that starts in his gut and blooms over his thighs, his abdomen, his chest.

Takemura is saying something in his ear, but V loses most of the particulars. He gathers a few, though. “That’s it, V. Get all that poison out of you, now. All that burning heat from today, let it go.” His voice is low and husky with want, and V’s eyes roll up helplessly at the sound.

V feels the encouragement in the hum of his voice, the way the hand on his chest digs into his pectorals and holds him firm against the onslaught of pleasure. V shakes from head to toe, caught in a hurricane that only Takemura can lead him out of.

“So good, my thief,” Takemura tells him. “So good. You can do it—go ahead...”

Like a rush from a drug, the sharpness inside of V turns into a burst of nuclear fission—imploding and exploding all at once. V cries out as his shaking form seizes up in Takemura’s hold and he drops off the cliff of his second orgasm of the night. He comes almost dry.

Takemura knows how to ween him off of the overstimulation, knows how to bring him down easily. V’s limp form sags into the bodyguard behind him once the throes of pleasure finally abide. Takemura moves his hand from V’s chest, this time upward, and he captures the merc’s jaw to deliver him a sultry kiss. It’s all tongue and no teeth. He brings V back down with touches that are soft and sweet.

V doesn’t remember the cuffs coming off, but Takemura is rubbing idly at his wrists that are bruised like a motherfucker. It’s then that V realizes how much is ears are ringing. Takemura must take notice, too, because he gently lies V onto his side and provides V some water.

V sips the cooling liquid gingerly. The sights and sounds around him settle back into normalcy. Distantly, he feels Takemura’s fingers running through his hair like he’s untangling all of V’s thoughts with those dexterous digits. V hums and smiles, opening his eyes and looking up to see a very smug Takemura.

“You look particularly worn out, V,” Takemura tells him. “But don’t get too comfortable—here,” the bodyguard grabs V’s battered wrists and begins applying the lotion in soothing circles. “You did very well, all things considered.”

“All things considered?” V asks. He’s surprised when his voice is hoarse, but he shouldn’t be. He licks his lips and clears his throat, but it doesn’t make much difference. “You fucking _wrecked_ me, Goro. Shit. I think I might be dead.”

Takemura’s laugh is light and golden in response. “You needed to burn some energy. I am glad I could be of help.”

The two cleaned up in comfortable silence after that. By the time V is rolling into bed, he’s extending a hand to Takemura expectantly.

“Well?” V asks. “Are you gonna sleep?”

Takemura hesitates and V sees it. He’s already borrowed another pair of sweatpants. He’s already slept with the merc twice, now. Falling to sleep together... he knows where this leads. He knows it is a distraction, that it is dangerous, and that he is a fool.

“Yes,” Takemura says finally. “But... V, this will be the last time.”

V doesn’t say anything, just moves over and pulls Takemura gently under the sheets. When V’s fingers find the elastic securing Takemura’s hair and pull, the bodyguard feels himself come unraveled at the same time. V tangles his fingers in Takemura’s hair, pulls him closer, and kisses him in a chaste parody of their earlier activities.

“Don’t worry about it, Goro,” V says quite seriously. “This—all this... I know we’re on borrowed time.”

This time, it’s Takemura’s turn to be silent. Enough time passes that he thinks that V has fallen asleep with their limbs tangled together. A false sense of security. Of intimacy.

“Hey, Goro,” V adds in dark after some time. “I doubt you’ll listen to me, but... I wish you’d just delta. Just leave all this Arasaka business behind you. Become a nomad, like you’d said. I can help you get a start on a new life if you want.”

“I think we both know I cannot do that, V,” Takemura says grimly.

“I know,” V almost whispers. He thinks again to all the death that’s followed him, how it manages to take all his friends, and about how it’s catching up to him quicker than he’d like. “Just... I don’t wanna see you dead. Okay?”

Takemura shifts so that he can stretch out, pulls V to his side and presses his lips to his forehead. “I can only promise that I will do my best. Now sleep, thief.”

With that, V closes his eyes. He knows tomorrow holds its own battles. And a hangover.

And he knows Johnny won’t let him hear the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave Kudos and a Comment! I love feedback, and friends :) 
> 
> Follow me over at DaddyTakemura.tumblr.com
> 
> Don't be shy!


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